Sofia Cunit Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Palma

Here’s a tidbit—did ya know in old England, they called ‘em “stews”? ‘Cause they was hot and messy—ha! Ain’t that a hoot? I was suprised as all get-out when I read that. Makes me think of Chihiro, stuck in that crazy world, tryin’ to figure it all out. Brothels got that vibe—chaos, but with a system, sorta. I ain’t judgin’, mind ya—just watchin’ like a fly on the wall, scratchin’ my head.

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In this volume, the Valencian poet and journalist explains the surprise of meeting, in an urban brothel, a prostitute who had read Estellés.

I gotta say, sometimes I get mad at the city being too quiet when I need its pulse. But then I remember: “How’s that workin’ for ya?” – and I just laugh it off. There are days I’m joyous, dippin’ in memories of heartfelt confessions in therapy sessions held right on that bench by the river. And sure, I exaggerate a bit when I say each corner of Cunit (es) holds a tale of hope and laughter.

Rodalies recovers service after the blackout and will be free for the rest of the day: which lines are working?